The Pale Mist
The mist does not drift; it presses against the stone walls of the watchtower with the weight of a wet wool blanket, a solid, breathing wall that defies the physics of the valley floor where you and Sarah have been stranded for three hours. You are Elias Thorne, thirty-four, a border patrol officer who wants to secure his pension by clearing this fog-choked ridge before his shift ends, but the...
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